#his self-esteem improved a little

[canisalbus]

Wait, holdup. Are you telling me that modern AU Machete used to smoke? Can we have more information on this, please?

Although a cigarette between his fingers might fit his silhouette, I can't imagine Machete smoking. Isn't he a health and hygiene freak?

He started smoking as a sad and disillusioned teen, mostly because some of his mature and edgy friends smoked and he wanted to seem mature and edgy as well.

First and foremost it was a way to manage stress, it gave him an impression that he was at least somewhat in control of his nerves. He does have a lot of health/hygiene anxiety, but he tried to justify it to himself by claiming that since he's so diligent and careful about everything else, surely he can afford to have this one bad habit that he's already familiar with. He wasn't proud of it, he knew perfectly well how smoking was objectively harmful, but he's fairly skilled in keeping himself in denial about things he's unwilling to contemplate. Also he's an extremely routine oriented person and it really rustles his jimmies when his daily rituals and personal coping mechanisms are tampered with.

I think he finally managed to quit for good some time after getting together with Vasco. Mostly because he had to start thinking about himself and his life in a new light and it made him painfully self-conscious about the whole thing. He was worried about smelling off-putting, tired of not being able to keep up with him physically and just generally guilty and embarrassed about being potentially annoying and unpleasant to be around.

[travelling-hydaelyn]

I too would thank y’shtola for teleporting me far away from work and forcing me to live in the wood for a few months

[i-spilled-my-soup]

post ttc nico thinking bianca might have lived if he was only smarter and stronger and better, and bianca being the only role model he'd had for all the life he'd remembered he absolutely overcompensates becoming a caricature of distrust and seclusion. but he isnt used to it like bianca was and his desire to help (to prove his worth? to prove that he has a right to live when his sister didn't?) manifests in clinging to any opportunity of progress, anything that could earn him graditute or at the very least repentance

[sysig]

for requestober ! my heart's been aching for yanderapy for a while and i would like to get something about them :3 i don't have a specific prompt . i do like to see them more on the angsty-unhealthy-relationship side lol like some of the requests you made last year . overall , just seeing anything about them would be nice . X3

Day 1 - Sodium Chloride Couple

[ansburg]

bg3 fans showing their da leanings in how allergic they are to nuance 😔

[snail-noodle]

shadow milk lovers! come get ya juice!!

gif credit to @murahaul 💙

–––

past!shadow milk cookie who enjoys laying curled around you whenever he finishes his studies and lectures for the day. these moments are rare between the two of you. being both a hero and a highly esteemed principal of a grand academy, there's no doubt shadow milk cookie's free time is very minimal.

he sighs in bliss as he gently pulls you closer to him, snuggling your neck and basking in your warmth. truly, he wouldn't trade these moments with you for anything less.

beast!shadow milk cookie who has gotten used to the lack of touch of another being after so many centuries being sealed away. the moment you embrace him, his entire body and mind freezes up. such actions of affection had become foreign to him. it takes him a while to not freeze whenever you hug him, kiss him, or even just hold his hand.

fortunately, as you spend time together more and more, he's the one who begins to initiate such affections. it's a slow process, but it's improving...

past!shadow milk cookie enjoys watching you do mundane tasks around his castle. he had reassured countless times that doing such tasks isn't necessary. he has loyal servants at his beck and call that can do those chores for you, but you wave it off every time. he was baffled at first, but as time went on... he started noticing small things from you. how you would hum a little melody whenever you would prepare food for the both of you. how you would have a small smile whenever you dusted off and rearranged the couple of bookshelves in your shared room.

the little things...

beast!shadow milk cookie who firmly refuses to allow you to do any type of chore in his castle after his return. he wants your complete and undivided attention at all times! if you ever start mindlessly sorting out books, one of shadow milk cookie's servant will gently nudge you away and continue the task for you.

"his majesty calls for you, my lady." you leave with a huff. even trying to do a simple task will cause one of his servants to appear out of nowhere to stop you and send you back to him. he wants you nowhere else but near to him.

past!shadow milk cookie who enjoys taking long walks with you amongst his garden at night. after a long day of teaching magic and providing knowledge about the world, he enjoys taking the moment to stand beneath the stars. it's even more pleasant when you're there to accompany him. hands intertwined, hushed conversations shared amongst the both of you, and the stars twinkling high above. what could be a better way to end a busy day?

beast!shadow milk cookie will gaze up at the moon and the stars that surround her with you by his side. instead of the gardens, the two of climb up his highest tower for a clearer view of the sky. despite everything, shadow milk cookie still retains the mannerisms from his past self. with a gentle, but firm grip on your hand, he matches your pace as the two of you ascend up the tower.

he knows he could easily just carry you and take flight up to the top, but he'd rather spend this moment to have a conversation you. the moon and stars won't be leaving anytime soon. why the rush?

past!shadow milk cookie enjoys holding your hand and seeing the vast size difference you share. just like his fellow friends, shadow milk cookie is a tall individual (the perks of being one of the first cookies). seeing just how small, how fragile you were, he just can't help but feel a rush of protectiveness course through his dough. everything about you, no matter how small, deserves to be kept safe.

beast!shadow milk cookie who constantly teases you about your height. he enjoys sneaking up on you from behind and lifting you up in the air with a spin! even now, he enjoys the height difference and he makes sure to let you know with his words <3 either by teasing you or whispering it to you as he holds you close in an embrace.

past!shadow milk cookie who is quick to guide you away at the first sign of danger. unlike burning spice or anyone else, past!shadow milk cookie is a man who rarely gets mad. if anyone dares to or/and ends up hurting you... well, facing the wrath of an immortal is impossible to survive from.

beast!shadow milk cookie won't even try to see or figure out why someone would attack you. if he senses danger, he's quick to cut it off before any harm is done to you. danger lurks at every corner now that he's free from the tree. because of who he is, it's no surprise that there's cookies appearing in his kingdom to take him out.

it's amusing to watch a cookie try to harm him. sometimes he even allows them to almost come close to landing a mark on him. when it comes to you, though? he doesn't even bother turning the attacker into a puppet, he's quick to slash right through them without a smile.

it's all fun and games for him... until it involves you.

[thatsherastro]

Random Astro Notes Part 1

WARNING ⚠️ I have mecury-pluto & mars so YES! I’m going to say what the people are scared to say. If you are sensitive this post/ page may not be for you. These are general observations, aspects & houses matter. xoxo

- No one is meaner than a Taurus that is broke. Taurus is the natural ruler of the 2H. The 2H rules our material assets, security, comfort as well as our self-esteem. When Tauruses do not have money, they start to view themselves as less than . Which in turn makes them latch on to the darker side of Venus. Mean , insecure, closed minded and always comparing themselves to others.

no money + no security = low self esteem

- Before falling in love with that, Aquarius sun /venus man, make sure that he is not using you for your money or to improve his quality of life.

- You might want to think twice before telling that pisces your personal business. Specifically Pisces mercury. Yes, Pisces placements are accepting. But remember they are ruled by Neptune the sign of scandal & when you pair that with mercury, a planet that likes to gossip what do you think we get ?

- Mercury - Neptune can make a person a little liar.

- Check on your Capricorn moon , Moon-Saturn & Moon- pluto friends ��🏾 they may not open up emotionally but knowing that someone cares sometimes helps just a little bit.

- Jupiter can sometimes make a person a hypocrite due to these peoples tendencies, to think highly of themselves, while avoiding accountability. Sagittarius & pisces I’m talking to YOU 🫵🏾 Examples below:

Pisces = thinking highly because they feel that they give the most and have an extreme savior complex.

Sagittarius = thinking highly of themselves because they feel more educated. They often times use their ability to see the bigger picture as a weapon to do what they want and move on.

- Cancer placements are prone to gaining weight due to being emotional eaters.

If you want to have a fun and reckless night out on the town, call your Sagittarius, Aquarius, Pisces , Gemini, Aries and Leo friend .

- Aries isn’t the side of mars that holds onto a grudge forever, it’s Scorpio. Once an Aries blows off their steam they are done with the situation but scorpio ?ohhh scorpio will get you later than sooner

THANK YOU FOR READING 🫶🏾 Like & Follow for more xoxo

[married-to-google-translater]

Hello, I would like to ask for an imagine of Leona and Jamil in a self-aware AU, being in love with a reader, who has one of them as a favorite (you can decide if you want Yandere or not)

Okaaaaay~ I hope u enjoy this :3

Yandere Leona Kingscholar

Leona wouldn't care much about being a game character.

He would care more about not being able to cuddle with the real you.

This dude is very chill...

At least until he realizes that some other people can flirt with you.

Leona would definitely not approve of this.

He would have to come up with something.

However, knowing that he is your favorite character would calm him down a bit.

Oh Leona would be really smug if he was your favorite.

He would really rub it in Malleus' face.

You would improve his self-esteem a lot.

Too bad you're not in their world.

This would really annoy him.

Leona would be rich...

He might not have experience with how the code works, but he could certainly hire someone to figure it out.

His family would get the bill :3

You would get a lot of edited interactions.

R.I.P Malleus' screen time.

Leona is not sure how, but he will find a way for you to be together.

Yandere Jamil Viper

Well, this would be a shock.

Jamil had never thought of himself as a game character.

He doesn't know how to deal with this at first.

However, things will get better with time.

Jamil believes that you still understand him better than anyone else.

Also knowing that he is your favorite makes it a little easier.

Jamil would have to explain all the time that his ability to hypnotize does not work in another world.

Believe Jamil would have tried.

If he got paid every time people think he would be richer than Kalim.

However, Jamil is not rich...

This would annoy him a lot because he can't bribe anyone to modify the code.

Jamil might try to learn on his own.

After all, he would be pretty smart.

If your game crashes when you try to put another character on your home screen, you know who to blame.

Jamil would probably want to find a way to enter your world so you could be together.

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: adult content, cheating, shitty fiancé, self-indulgent madness, mdni — notes: i can’t sleep, and @alfredosaws got the gears turning in my head. sorry if this isn’t your jam. i was horny and needed to torture myself. — now playing: see through - amelia moore

Imagine Sylus as your real estate agent, showing you and your fiancé around a potential home.

Your fiancé doesn’t seem too interested, busy typing away on his phone or occasionally stepping out to answer phone calls. You titter nervously, explaining to Sylus with a wry smile that your fiancé is a very busy man.

Still, Sylus continues showing you the rest of the house, pointing out parts that would appeal primarily to you.

“You see here? The master bedroom contains an en-suite bathroom with enough counter space to house all your skincare products. ”

“The bathtub has jets. Perfect for when you want to unwind after a long day on your feet. You look like you shoulder the world. You deserve to take a load off with a warm, soothing bath.”

“The sunroom would be great for your plants. You look like you have quite a green thumb. You strike me as a cultivator. A nurturer. Someone who should learn to sit down from time to time.”

“The counter space in the kitchen is immaculate. Perfect for when the love of your life wants to cook breakfast or have you for dessert.”

He’s so very flattering and handsome, and you find yourself falling prey to his charms. You rein yourself in when your fiancé returns, still as detached about the house as ever. You ask him for his opinion, to which he shrugs you off and remarks that he’s happy if you’re happy. Conveniently, his phone rings again, and he walks outside to take the call.

Sylus gives you a pitying look as if he knows there’s trouble in paradise. You smile awkwardly to dispel his worries.

Sure, your fiancé isn’t always present in your relationship. And maybe you agreed to his proposal out of fear, thinking you would lose out on your white picket fence if you refused him. But, who are you kidding? You haven’t felt like yourself in years. Haven’t genuinely smiled in a very long time, and your fiancé hasn’t helped improve your self-esteem, nitpicking when you’re a little bloated or leave the house without makeup.

You’ve recently caught him entertaining other women on his socials, and he would quickly gaslight you, exclaiming that you were looking for reasons to be upset. Deep down, you know he isn’t good for you, and you deserve better, but a sick part of you believes he is your punishment for some crimes you might’ve committed in a past life.

Sylus has read you like a book, and you’ve only worked with him for two months. You feel more comfortable in his presence than the man you’re about to marry, having known him much longer.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” says Sylus, his voice a sweet, sticky dolce as he takes your hand into his larger one.

He guides you up the spiraling staircase towards the main bedroom and lures you into the massive walk-in closet. And when you’re swathed in the darkness after he shuts the door behind you, he backs you up against a wall, your breaths intermingling whilst his mouth hovers over yours.

“You poor thing,” he whispers next to your ear, the hairs scattered across your body standing on end, pleasant tingles ricocheting through your extremities. He takes your hand in his, pressing it against the cool, textured wall overhead, tenderly twining your fingers together. “That Narcissist doesn’t deserve you, now does he?” His lips graze yours, the sensation making your legs tremble like a fawn.

“I can see it in your eyes.” A weighted palm smooths over your side, a devastatingly powerful knee sliding between the fat of your thighs, pilfering the breath from your lungs. He touches you with a reverence you’ve never known. “You don’t love him, do you? Not when I can touch you like this.”

He takes possession of your jaw, breathing hot and open-mouthed against your lips, nuzzling your noses together. And you’re dizzy, the closet suddenly feeling so cramped, and the warmth of his body permeating through the layers of your clothes. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve so much more. I can give you so much more. May I kiss you, sweetling?”

Despite the voice screaming somewhere far off in your mind that this is very much wrong, you find yourself nodding sluggishly in the darkness as if he can see you slowly turning to putty in his palms. He chuckles, the vibrations of it making your tummy flutter like you’re cresting down a hill.

Wordlessly, he pans in, startling you with a gentle kiss at first. Something deft and ghostly, so soft you wouldn’t believe it happened. When you make a gentle keen of protest after he pulls way, he takes that as his cue to kiss you again, this time more firm and full-bodied, the rigid pane of his body slowly anchoring you to the wall. 

Your unoccupied hand slides over his spine, concluding its excursion at the small of his back, and he’s strong here. Sturdy as if he could lift you one-handed if he so pleases. The idea makes you whimper, and he swallows the pretty little noises he invokes, his sweltering tongue pushing into your mouth to map out every ridge and crevice. 

He slips a warm, weighted palm into the crook of your knee, drawing your thigh up to rest on his hip. And, with this new angle, he presses fully against you, the stitching of his slacks scraping pleasantly over the inner cut of your thigh. He releases your hand once moored to the wall to hoist you into his arms, one of your heels clattering to the floor. Ten shaky fingers bury themselves in his hair, sifting through tufts of soft white to draw him ever closer to deepen your lip-lock. 

Despite the spacious closet, it’s growing uncomfortably warm. Too many clothes are in the way, so you tug his shirt from his slacks. Your fingers blindly scramble over his shirt buttons, eager to feel the smooth, supple glide of his skin beneath them. He chuckles something throaty and enrapturing, kissing you velvet-soft as his desire awakens to press against your thigh.

“So eager, aren’t you?” he husks, breaking away from your lips with a sticky click to blister your jaw and carotid with languorous kisses. “Has he ever touched you like this? Kissed you like this?” 

You crane your head back, your skull lightly thudding against the wall behind you. Your lashes shutter. The feeling of his mouth dragging over your skin and his weighted body nestled between your thighs is too much and yet not enough. You cling to his back, your grip white-knuckled, mouth parted slightly with wanton pleas for more more more.

But before he can grant your request, your fiancé’s voice beckons to you through the empty, sturdy walls of the house. The spell that befell you disperses, reality careening in. You push against Sylus’ lean chest with the heel of your palm, panting and gasping, squirming to be let down. Sylus reluctantly heeds you, gently setting you onto your feet. 

He helps you slide back into your discarded heel, kissing your ankle on his way back up, and you try to ignore how your body burns like an inferno at the attention. It takes all of you not to snatch him towards you once more, to kiss him and demand he take you, right then and there, with your fiancé calling for you downstairs. But, as much as it pains you, you feel remorse for how far you already let things go. 

Fixing your clothes and hair to some semblance of neatness in the darkness, the pair of you exit the closet. You don a rehearsed smile, answering your fiancé that you’ll be right down. Searing, slender fingers encircle your wrist before you can descend the stairs. You acknowledge Sylus with a look over your shoulder. He fixes you with a feverish stare that burns like a flame, revealing a deep desire for you. And the realization shoots straight to your center as his mouth draws into an unflinching line. 

Something in your chest pinches and pulls. And for a moment, you consider what your life would be like if you’d given yourself more credit and granted yourself a little more grace. But you brush away your thoughts, fixing Sylus with an unconvincing smile before pulling away from him to descend the stairs into the arms of your loving, soon-to-be husband.  

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Plastic Surgery

↳ Masterlist

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✯ pairing:  Franco Colapito x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: plastic surgery mentioned✯

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Dating someone so public and admired was definitely an experience. There was a reason she wanted to keep it private, but the media found out much earlier than they had planned. One day, as he was picking her up from college, someone snapped a photo, and just like that, everyone knew.

The scrutiny was as brutal as she had expected—people dissecting every piece of information they could find online. Perhaps more hurtful, though, were the comments about her appearance. Any perceived flaw was pointed out by countless strangers. Of course, not every comment was critical, but who pays attention to the kind ones anyway?

That only aggravated her already fragile self-esteem, leaving her even more self-conscious about her appearance. She began obsessively refining her makeup, perfecting her hair, and scrutinizing every detail of her looks. But no matter how much effort she put into superficial improvements, it never felt like enough—enough to stop the criticism, enough to silence the noise.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to a single conclusion: the only reasonable path was cosmetic surgery, wasn’t it?

Franco drove down the road with ease, the afternoon sun painting golden streaks across the dashboard. She sat beside him, phone in hand, her thumb scrolling incessantly. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed together in that way that meant she was deep in thought—or trouble.

He glanced over as they slowed for a red light, his curiosity piqued. “You know,” he teased, his accent wrapping around the words, “you look way too serious for someone who just got out of class. What’s going on, amor?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, a little too quickly, tilting her phone away from him like a guilty teenager.

Franco smirked, his instincts kicking in. “Oh, come on. ‘Nothing’ with that face? Let me see,” he teased, leaning slightly to sneak a look.

“Franco, watch the road!” she protested, locking her phone and shoving it into her lap, but not before he caught a glimpse of the open webpage.

His smile faltered as the word “cosmetic surgery” registered. His playful demeanor softened, replaced by quiet concern. At the next stoplight, he turned to her, his voice gentle. “Amor... what’s that about?”

“It’s nothing,” she repeated, her gaze fixed firmly out the window.

“Really?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “Because it looked a lot like ‘I think I need surgery dot com.’”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t say anything, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Franco’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he let out a small sigh. “Is this about the comments?”

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

“Dios mío,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Amor, why do you even read that stuff? Those people—they’re bored, miserable, and lack a life.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, but he caught the tiniest twitch of her lips.

“I’m serious!” he continued, his voice animated now, trying to coax a smile out of her. “You think someone with their life together is online talking about you? No. They’re too busy living. The ones who leave those comments? They’re jealous. Of your talent, your looks, and—” he grinned, throwing her a quick, cheeky look—“the fact that you get to date me.”

She couldn’t help it; a small laugh escaped, though she quickly stifled it. 

“I’ll take that laugh as an agreement” he said, triumphant. “So why are you letting ridiculous people get to you?”

Her smile faded, replaced by a vulnerable look she rarely showed. “It’s not just them, Franco. It’s... everything. I just... I don’t feel good enough.”

He softened immediately, his teasing giving way to something more sincere. “Amor,” he said, reaching over to rest his hand on hers. “You don’t need surgery. You don’t need to change anything. Not for them, not for anyone.”

She looked at him, her eyes doubtful. “You really think that?”

“I know that,” he said firmly. Then, in true his fashion, he couldn’t resist adding, “But if you’re still not convinced, I could always pull up other fan pages. The comments about my hair after races alone will make you feel like a queen.”

That earned him a real chuckle.

“See? Much better,” he said with a grin. “No more websites like that, okay?”

She nodded, her heart lighter, and when his fingers gave hers a reassuring squeeze, she squeezed back.

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

[celestelunia]

Yk what would be sad. A Vil x GN!reader who keeps changing themselves because Vil keeps insulting everything about them (not on purpose) but he doesn’t realize what’s happening until they just stop talking to him all together because being with him hurts them too much. Nice ending maybe? (I’m a baby and can’t handle angst endings😭)

Hi! So sorry this took a while! Hope you've been well!

First time writing for Vil, but I tried my best lol. Hope you like it!

TW: self-esteem/image issues

"Straighten up"

"That color doesn't look good on you. Try something ligther."

"Hm. That clothing style isn't right. This just won't do."

"No. No. No. It's all wrong."

As you walked down the halls of NRC, you kept a couple of style magazines pushed up against your chest as your once bright eyes seemed darker and less happy.

Vil Schoenheit was someone you always admired, and when you were able to become a part of the rare few people who he considered a friend, you couldn't have been happier. You knew being next to someone like Vil wasn't going to be easier, but you never expected something on this level.

At first, it started with little words of improvement. Ones that you gladly took to help improve yourself, but over time, that's all you heard. Negative words on how you could do better. Look better. Nothing was very good enough, and now it was starting to ware you down. Suddenly, it felt like Vil was saying "you" weren't good enough.

At that thought, you came to a stop as you looked down at the magazines in your hands. It was all too much, and it was getting to the point that you couldn't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore. With a sigh, you turned and walked towards the nearest trash bin before you threw away the very magazines that had become your life.

A month had passed, and Vil was starting to wonder what was going on with you. You had slowly stopped coming by his room, attending meetings, and just having lunch together. At first, he figured it was because you got busy since he understood time restrictions and all, but after a couple of weeks, he felt like something was off.

The few times Vil saw you in the hallways the moment you caught his gaze, the model watched as you would turn and head in the opposite direction. It almost felt like you were avoiding him, but that couldn't be right?

......could it?

Over the last couple of weeks, you felt like you could breathe again, but despite that, you didn't feel happy. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to Vil, so you did the next best thing you could think of.

You avoided him.

And that alone was painful. You missed his voice, his company, and when you saw that look of surprise in his eyes when you obviously avoided him cause pain to shoot through your chest.

Despite all of these feelings, you knew the relationship you had with Vil wasn't healthy. You couldn't constantly keep up with his approval, and you wanted him to accept you for who you were.

Faults and all.

"Y/N."

Hearing the very voice you were thinking of calling out your name caused you to freeze. In that small moment, your fight or flight senses went off, but before you could make up your mind, you felt Vil grab your hand.

"Do you have a moment? I need to talk with you." Vil asked as he had noticed that look in your eyes that you might run, so he did his best to cut off your options to do so.

You paused as you considered his question. While you weren't ready to talk about this, you got the feeling you never would be, so you decided to just nod your head as the popular model led you towards his room for some privacy.

Once alone in Vil's room, you glanced around the familiar setting and scent.

"What's going on?" Vil asked, getting to the point.

At the question, you turned to look back at him without answering the question. You could feel that nasty and unpleasant bubble building up in the center of your chest. Did he really not know?

"You've been avoiding me, and I think it's only fair that you explain why." Vil said in his usual confidence.

Feeling that tightness in your chest, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you lowered your head.

"Y/N, if you slouch like that, it will be bad for-" Vil had started to say but stopped when he heard you mutter something. "Speak up. Muttering is very unbecoming."

"This!" You snapped, which caused the blonde to jump as he was startled by your sudden outburst. "The constant complaining and everything!"

Vil froze as he watched your beautiful [colored] eyes glare at him as fresh tears welled up in them.

"I'll never be good enough for you! Why can't you just accept me for who I am? I can't keep being with you as you constantly put me down!"

"Putting you down? I-" Vil said, surprised, but his words got cut off in his throat when he watched you storm over towards him.

"Maybe think a bit harder before you finish that sentence." You said as you told yourself you wouldn't apologize for getting your feelings out. "Not everyone is perfect, Vil. Not everyone can be like you....."

The model just started at you for a moment, but before he could speak, he watched as you walked past him and out of the room. Now alone, Vil just frowned. He had never seen you like this before, and your words echoed in his head.

He didn't put you down. He would never do something like that to you....right? You were the only person (outside of Rook) who he could be himself around. He adored your company...

Taking a deep breath, Vil left his room as he headed towards his vice housewarden room. If anyone could help him right now, it would be Rook.

The next day, you decided not to go to classes as you stayed crawled up on your bed. While you did feel better getting your feelings out, you felt sad at the fact that you might lose your friendship with Vil.

It was weird how the world "friendship" had changed for you over time as you started to notice a change in your feelings, but it wasn't something you were ready to drive into it.

Hearing a knock on your door, you let out a moan as you pulled your blankets over your head. "Go away." You called out as you figured it was one of your friends checking up on you. After a couple of seconds of silence, you thought they had left, but instead, you heard your door open. Holding back another groan, you kept yourself hidden, hoping your friend would get the message that you weren't in the mood to talk.

"Staying in and resting is important."

Instead of your friends voice, you heard Vil's as you suddenly sat up in your bed and removed the blanket from your head.

Standing in the room was Vil as he closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" You ask as even you could hear the coldness in your tone.

"I came to talk." Vil said as he just smiled softly. "And to apologize."

At this, you gripped the blanket that was resting in your lap. Vil apologizing? That didn't sound right.

Noticing that you weren't moving to kick him out, Vil decided to continue. "I want to apologize for my words. I know it's not an excuse, but I didn't even notice I was saying those....things to you. Or how often."

While Vil was a proud man, he also wasn't that proud to lose someone important to him due to his own mistakes. After talking with Rook, he finally had a good understanding of how he had been treating you. "Perfection..." Vil said with a sigh as he looked off to the side of your room. "...is something that has been pushed on me since a young age, and it appears I've picked up a rather nasty habit. I never meant for my words to make you think you weren't good enough." He said as he walked over towards your bed and took a seat on the side of it. "You're already perfect enough. Just knowing I can be myself around you and knowing you won't judge my imperfections..." Vil said as he reached out and placed his hand over yours that was gripping your blanket.

"...It means the world to me, and I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't good enough. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, but I wanted you to know I never once thought you weren't good enough."

At Vil's words, your eyes widen before you glance down at his hand resting over yours. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest. "It hurt..." You whispered as you closed your eyes. "I just want to be with you and not to embarrass yo-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Vil gently hand on the back of your head as he slowly pulled you forward into an embrace.

"You've never embarrassed me. I was just wanting what was best for you, and that ended up turning into nagging stepmother's territory." Vil said with a small smile as he tried to lighten the mood. "And I'm sorry I hurt you...."

With your forehead resting against Vil's chest, you let out a long sigh as you took in his warmth. Something about his scent and being next to him always helped you to relax.

"Do you forgive me?" The model asked bearly above a whisper. The longer the silence went, the more he was starting to worry you wouldn't.

"I do...." You said before pulling back to look at Vil. "...but I hold the right to punish you if you make me feel like this again." You said with a playful smile.

"Deal." Vil replied as he mirrored your smile. "I've already spoken with Rook, and I plan on being more mindful. I don't make the same mistake twice."

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded your head.

"Now." Vil said as he suddenly stood up from your bed. "I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. How about we watch a movie and catch up a bit?" He asked before holding out his hand to you.

Surprised that Vil cleared HIS schedule for you made that familiar warmth spread through your chest again as you smiled. How you've missed it. "Who am I to turn you down?" You teased softly as you reached out and placed your hand in his.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

.

.

.

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Tom catches Evans trying to sneak into the Restricted Section for the third time that week a couple days later.

He knocks on the door frame – the element of surprise did him no favours last time – and leans against it casually. “Hard at work, Evans?”

Evans looks up at him with a glare that could strip paint, before turning the glare back to his book.

“It must be serious, to demand so much of your focus.”

No response.

“Perhaps I can help you with your research,” he offers. “I’m quite good at it.”

“What do you want, Riddle.” From the frustrated tone to the tense body language, it’s clear this is not really a question. More of a muggle sirens-and-lights warning.

“Why are you so convinced that I want something from you?” 

“You’re a Slytherin, of course you want something.”

Tom doesn’t bother to point out that Evans is also a Slytherin; he gets the sense it’s a sore spot.

“And yet you don’t exhibit such scorn for either Malfoy or Black. What makes me so deserving of your suspicion?”

Evans snorts. “Those two couldn’t disguise what they’re really after if their lives depended on it. And neither of them is trying to get into my pants.”

“Well, more fool them.”

Evans sputters, flushing up to his ears.

“Piss off, Riddle!” The boy stands up, flinging the book closed (time magic, Tom notes – something to consider later) and almost falling over in his rush to leave as he gets tangled in his chair.

Tom darts a hand out and grabs onto Evans’ wrist before he can escape.

He narrows his eyes and considers the evidence. It’s a disproportionate reaction to an innocuously flirtatious comment. Tonight's efforts to take Evans to bed (or the table, or against the wall – he’s not picky) might be a wash, but perhaps he can learn something to improve his chances in the future.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Evans scoffs, looking increasingly distraught. “Everything’s wrong! And you being weird doesn’t help.”

“Weird?” Tom says, a little offended. “If my advances are unwanted, just say the word, but there’s nothing weird–”

“Stop playing with me!”

“Why do you think I’m playing with you?”

Evans snorts derisively. “As if someone like you would be interested in someone like me.”

That brings Tom up short. Is something so trivial the only obstacle?

“Do you think so little of yourself?”

“My self-esteem is neither here nor there,” Evans says irritably. “And jesus, how big is your ego – I don’t want you, so there must be something wrong with me?”

“I didn’t say that. What did you mean by ‘someone like you’ and ‘someone like me,’ then?”

“I’m a nobody, Riddle,” Evans says after a brief pause. “No fortune to speak of, no connections in high places, no real future prospects. There’s nothing exceptional about me. And you,” he hesitates, weighing his words. “You are exceptional – you would accept nothing less for or from yourself. People expect great things from you, and I have no doubt you could achieve them.”

The boy looks straight into his eyes. “But I do doubt your ability to tell the difference between ‘great’ and ‘terrible.’” 

Tom feels a shiver slide down his spine, his breath catching in his throat. He wants to peel Evans open and find out what he knows, why he thinks that, who the hell he thinks he is to say such a thing to him. At the same time, Tom wants to get as far away from the suddenly strange boy, and that’s far more manageable at the moment.

He casts a quick obliviate and returns to his dorm. Sleep is long in coming to Tom that night.

(Tom Riddle’s Guide to Repeatedly Failing to Get Laid in the Restricted Section)

[maxiemumdamage]

To me Azula is a tragic character specifically because while she was failed by everyone around her, it also would’ve been unreasonable to expect any of them to save her. Among those who wanted to help her, practically no one had the understanding or power to change her. They couldn’t get Azula to stop being cruel, in large part because they couldn’t change the circumstances that nurtured her worst traits.

Except Ozai obviously. Fuck him. He’s why Azula is like that to begin with. But the power and sway he has over her also made it borderline impossible for anyone else to make her change.

(MUCH more to say about this here:)

People tend to blame Ursa for Azula’s behavior first and foremost. And…yes, Ursa was pretty clearly closer with Zuko than Azula. But of course she was! Ursa’s son was constantly abused and degraded by his father — as per the comics, Ozai outright told Ursa he would do this for all of Zuko’s life in order to hurt his wife. Zuko needed Ursa’s support to have any sense of self-esteem and frankly, for his own safety.

Zuko needed his mother just to be safe and not be alone, while Azula needed her mother for moral education. Even if you don’t think Ursa’s priorities were the right ones…choosing her daughter over her son might not have been enough to change Azula anyway. It would’ve been devastating for Zuko without necessarily improving Azula in any meaningful way, because Ursa didn’t actually have the authority to meaningfully oppose her husband.

By the time it would’ve been evident that Azula had a super skewed moral compass as a result of being around Ozai so much…she still would’ve been like, eight years old max, for one thing. Little kids say and do a lot of fucked up shit, because they don’t understand morals or the world by and by large. For another, once it was obvious she was parroting horrible stuff from her father, Azula also would’ve had no respect for her mother. So what could Ursa do, by the time she realized she needed to do something?

We see in flashbacks that Ursa tried, even when her child didn’t respect her and she couldn’t enforce meaningful consequences for the bad behavior Ozai rewarded. Ursa scolded Azula for saying cruel things. She made Zuko spend time with his sister, rewarding Azula for any moments of kindness or cooperation (even when Azula was just faking it to get an opportunity to bully Zuko and Mai). She tried.

As for Ursa leaving…uh, if she hadn’t, Zuko would have died. He absolutely, 100% would have died if his mother hadn’t cut a deal with Ozai to put him on the throne in exchange for disappearing. She made Azulon and his ultimatum go away because that was necessary to protect Zuko.

Ursa did fail to morally guide her daughter. But to do otherwise would’ve been to neglect her son, then to sign Zuko’s death warrant. I’m not gonna pretend she didn’t choose one kid over the other — I just also think choosing to support the kid whom she knew her husband was mistreating wasn’t necessarily the wrong call.

And even if it was…choosing differently might not have done anything. Because Ursa could only offer affection, while Ozai wielded both the carrot and a stick. Azula would’ve likely still fawned to the more powerful abuser, still learned harmful behavior, and still internalized that her cruelty was not just necessary but acceptable. Rewarded, even.

There’s Iroh to mention as well. He admittedly had a lot more influence and ability to stand up to Ozai than Ursa did, but in fairness…that wasn’t his kid. He had his own son to worry about, and then he was grieving, and then…he chose Zuko too.

For the same reason as Ursa, I don’t quite blame him for it — Zuko needed help much more immediately. When Zuko was banished, Iroh did the right thing by going with. But I do think those in-between years in the palace were a time Iroh (still mourning, but still) had the chance to influence Azula a little. But…

…I’ve seen a post theorizing that Iroh dislikes his niece because she reminds him of who he used to be, and…I think that’s very likely. They’re the golden children of their fathers, the firebending prodigies, the conquerors of Ba Sing Se.

I also think it’s because he and Azula are so alike that he has no idea how to help her.

Iroh didn’t have a moral revelation about the Fire Nation’s conquest, not until it cost him his son’s life. His realization about war being wrong, subsequently becoming more worldly and gaining respect for other cultures, it happened only when the Fire Nation’s system stopped working for him personally. So he wouldn’t know how to make Azula see that system as wrong, to make her change for the better as he did. He can’t recreate his own reasons for changing.

Also, quite frankly — Iroh barely to not at all managed to turn Zuko off the Fire Nation’s propaganda. Zuko always had morals, sure, but he did not have any semblance of the idea that “war (of conquest) is wrong” or even “wow my father is abusive and terrible to me personally” after three years of travel with Iroh. Being an Earth Kingdom refugee and meeting the Gaang was when Zuko really changed. And I think Zuko (who got his face burned off at 13) would probably be a much easier egg to crack on the redemption front than Azula (for whom the cruel and abusive system has always worked, she’s fine with it as long as she’s the one on top).

I also am briefly going off topic here to say…I like the idea of Azula redemption. I agree that she is sometimes condemned too strongly, to harshly, given that she is just a teenage girl. But her youth doesn’t take away from her cruelty. She is someone who knowingly does wrong, because she sees it as a way to protect herself. A meaningful redemption arc for her has to acknowledge that, not just sweep it under the rug by claiming she always loved her victims.

Because yes, Azula’s loved ones who are of a similar age to her but have less power are in fact her victims. They love her, she loves them, but she does hurt them all the same. That also has to be acknowledged in the quest to redeem her.

Zuko and Mai and Ty Lee all flatly have no power over Azula — she has power over them, in fact, thanks to her status as Ozai’s favored child and just as a princess, respectively. Ursa and Iroh were adults who at least wouldn’t be hurt by trying to help Azula, but for her brother and friends? Changing her could be dangerous.

Zuko is nominally safer as the Crown Prince, but…he’s awful at politics and their infinitely more powerful Dad blatantly favors Azula. He can’t stand up to her. And the one time were shown that Ursa, trying to correct Azula’s cruelty, made her son play nice, feels cruel to Zuko. He gets hurt and humiliated for no reason but for his sister’s sake entertainment and (failed) moral education. It’s not his job to redeem his sister.

And then there’s Mai and Ty Lee, who may be nobles, but still can’t do anything to Princess Azula. In fact, even before Mai or Ty Lee have done anything, Azula is threatening their family and bodily safety, respectively, as a loyalty test. They cannot challenge Azula in any meaningful way without endangering their lives and safety. It’s not fair to expect them to fix her.

Who does that leave that Azula is even close to? The Gaang literally know nothing of her but “Zuko’s sister who keeps trying to kill us.” None of the Fire Nation Generals or Nobles will want her to change. Azulon rewarded her bad behavior almost as hard as Ozai. Lo and Li, maybe, but for all they’re the wise old ladies Azula takes advice from, Azula doesn’t actually interact with them very often.

Azula is a tragic character because, while she was a child who should have been redeemed and had better, it makes perfect sense she didn’t. No one could change her. No one could offer a sweeter carrot or bigger stick than Ozai. And by the time he was out of the picture, the story was over.

[teaaleefs]

Second Best - K. Bakugou

word count: 1746

pairing: 3rdyear!Bakugou x nb!reader

cw and notes: might be ooc because i’ve literally never written this guy before Hurt/Comfort, Cussing it’s bakugou idk what you expected. Soft bakugou, Hopefully i did it right tho- comparing yourself to others, jealousy, envy, low self esteem, pet names (baby), unedited asf good luck reading it because i certainly didn't, good ending :)

synopsis: you can't stop comparing yourself to your boyfriend and one day it just gets to you

Always second best. That’s what you were.

Second best to Katsuki since… Well, always. Your boyfriend always strove to be number one, always strove for perfection in everything. He was number one in class, the most promising student in class 1-A despite his rough and brash personality. But even then, he was the best at everything. Even things you told yourself you were good at.

Cooking? He could make your mom’s recipe almost exactly the same way she did, always fine tuning the details. But you? You always changed something up, always forgot a step. Too much salt, too little garlic, not enough pepper, forgot the vegetables… and despite being with him for some time - for nearly 3 years now - during your time in UA, you grew almost resentful.

At first you felt guilty, because why would you ever compare yourself to him? Why should you be upset that he’s doing well for himself? But the thought that you were always falling behind, always miles behind and him miles ahead, it bubbled up jealousy. You never acknowledged it when you were around him. You always acted normal, acted the same. Had your usual spats and squabbles with him, had your small dates with him and exchanged vulnerable words. But the feeling kept gnawing at you. Especially during finals, always during finals or big exams. You both would work your asses off. Hell, he even helped you to study the majority of the time. 

Still, everytime you found that he was just better. Better at everything. Better with his quirk, better at studying, better at retaining information, better at testing, better at cooking your mother’s damn soup, better at planning dates, taking you out, getting gifts, better, better, better.

It left you upset late at night most times. Whenever you weren’t sleeping in his room your mind would whir with ways for you to improve - for you to catch up. And even when you were sleeping in his room, when he was already asleep you would still find yourself comparing and comparing and wishing you could just be better at one thing. Anything, just one thing.

Sometimes it made heat rise to your face when you would have these thoughts while looking over his sleeping form. His chest rose and fell with soft breaths while your eyes stung and burned and you tried to blink back your jealousy. Usually blinking them back and telling yourself to get over it did the trick. But one night it just didn’t. And you ended up wiping your eyes and turning away from him, settling into the pillow beneath your head and forcing yourself to fall asleep. 

But this night wasn’t like the others and no matter what you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. Your eyes kept flooding full of tears just for you to keep wiping them away, just for you to keep quietly sniffling and hiccupping and for your mind to keep milling over your jealousy and underlying disappointment with yourself because it honestly wasn’t fair! You were trying just as hard as he was, but he was always more driven, always more something and tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

He heard you before he saw you. Back turned to him, quiet sniffles filling the otherwise silent room save for the sound of the fan. Scooting closer to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist. He knew better than to ask - he knew you weren’t the type to say it outright. 

“Oi, what’s wrong with you?” He asked anyway, his gruff voice having gone soft. It didn’t hold its usual snark or aggression, only a hint of the underlying concern he actually felt. When you didn’t answer, he sighed and held you tighter, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. 

You could feel light kisses brushing against your skin, murmured words of comfort that he normally wouldn’t utter. See, he was even better than you at comforting his loved ones. All you usually managed was an ‘it’ll be okay’ or a hug, feeling too awkward when it came to making others feel better. Your throat tightened as did your chest, the heel of your palms pressing against your eyes as you tried to will yourself to stop crying over nothing. To stop being a baby and a jealous little shit. There was no reason to cry from an outside standpoint. But here you were, silently balling your eyes out for no reason (that’s what you thought Katsuki might be thinking at least). 

“It’s not fair.” You managed to choke out, words mumbled and muffled between a sharp intake of air. 

His hands rubbed soothing circles against your skin, his hold on you never faltering, but his lips stopped their soft brushes against your shoulder. “What’s not fair?”

You fell silent again. Should you tell him? But that would be selfish, what if it caused him problems? No, realistically, he would hold back for no one. Not even you. but what if he decided that you were being dramatic? What if this lead to one of your usual tiffs over nothing? What if you really were just being a crybaby? What if, what if, what if he’s too good for you? 

One of his hands abandoned your waist in favor of caressing your hair, rough fingers running through the strands all the way down, down, down to your neck and then back up again to the top in a calming fluid motion. “Breathe, baby. I can feel you tensing up.” He murmured against your ear, his rough voice growing increasingly softer. 

You stiffened for a moment. You hadn’t even realized you were taking in shallow breaths, but now you were hyper aware of your breathing and how tight your chest felt. Nodding to show that you heard him, you drank in slow, deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before releasing them. 

You could hear him shifting behind you, both of his hands moving to cup your face. You could sense him hovering over you even as your hands stayed pressed to your eyes. You could feel the feather light kiss he pressed to your cheek and how quietly he asked you to move your hands. When you didn’t immediately comply, he gently encased his hands around your wrists, pulling your hands away himself.

Through bleary and wet eyes, you could make out the crease between his brows, his expression hardened into displeasure as he released your wrists. His displeasure wasn’t directed at you - never at you when you were like this.

He brushed the corner of your eyes free of tears with each thumb before pulling away. Settling back onto the bed and laying on his side, his warm hand brushed from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you towards his chest. You let out a breath before you finally let yourself cry without holding it back; without the sniffling and bit back and choked sobs.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked as he held you tight, chin resting atop your head.

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to tell him that you were crying because of him. It wouldn’t be fair and you had convinced yourself you were being childish. He let silence fall between you two, not wanting to push anymore when it was obvious that you weren’t going to say.

But that was fine. He was fine with just holding you tight and grazing his lips on your forehead. He held you for a while after that, murmuring sweet words into your ear, rubbing your back and hair and telling you that everything was okay, meanwhile you just couldn’t stop for the life of you comparing and wondering about how he’d react if you told him why you were crying.

Until eventually, you broke it down to him, blubbered and mumbled and choked words of explanation finally tumbling from your trembling lips. You told him about your jealousy, about the comparisons, how you felt he was miles ahead and you constantly fighting for a way to at least catch up. How he was just better, how you thought you were being silly and dramatic and that “there was no reason” for you to be crying like this - breaking down over this. How he felt out of your league, how he was just too good for you. But as soon as he heard you tell him all that he fell silent and that made your stomach drop. Was he silently agreeing with you? Did he also think you were being a crybaby? Childish? Dramatic–

He held you so tight you thought your bones might break. His head buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, he scolded you.

“Don’t fucking say shit like that.” He rasped, voice barely above a whisper, “There’s no way I’m out of your league. If I was, I wouldn't have dated you in the first place.” His words were honest and straightforward, blunt but needed. “Baby, you’re fine the way you are. Stop comparing yourself to me, it’s unfair to yourself.” He said before pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your eye, kissing away your plump tears. “We’re different people, of course things are gonna come differently to each of us.” He soothed as he pulled away to kiss the corner of your other eye. “There’s a lot of shit that you're better at than me, so give yourself some credit, baby.”

You managed a few soft noises of acknowledgement and muffled “okay’s”, taking in a few heaving breaths as you worked to calm down. He didn’t stop holding you, he didn’t stop muttering comforts to try and quiet your tears, didn’t stop telling you all the ways you had one upped him, even in the smallest of ways. He tried to show you that you had your own accomplishments, that even he couldn’t do it all - and that was the thing absolutely hated to admit, but he did it for you.

He didn’t stop holding you, his calloused fingers tracing soft patterns against your arm, not even as your breathing regulated and you sniffed here and there. Not even when you fell asleep against his chest, your fingers clutching onto his shirt in an attempt to keep him there. Not that he was moving anytime soon. He didn’t even let you go when he fell asleep too, his arms falling slack around you, but still there. Still resting against your waist, his legs tangled with yours and his face buried against your shoulder.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #13:

A yandere best friend has had a huge crush on (Y/n) since forever. She was a beautiful woman who worked at the same company as him and he often spent time with her, but he never confessed to her as he always considered himself a weak and useless boy. He grew up in a not-so-good home, which was the reason for his low self-esteem and poor self-perception.

His parents were abusive narcissists who ALWAYS demanded a lot from him in academic and extracurricular studies and didn't allow him a single low grade, to the point that if he failed, they could ignore him or punish him verbally and/or physically. (Y/n) was a classmate who became his friend and helped him see the light in his life and question his parents' behavior a little. To summarize, the yandere best friend befriended (Y/n) and due to his traumas (caused by his parents), he ended up falling in love with her and became motivated to continue studying but this time for himself and of course, to get away from his parents.

He graduated, got a few jobs, studied at the best university thanks to a scholarship, and now he's reunited with his beloved (Y/n) at the company they both now work for. However, he realized that (Y/n) was being stalked by another yandere who was none other than her yandere ex-fiancé. The yandere best friend was physically weaker than him; that's why, when he was kidnapped by the yandere ex-fiancé (who in turn kidnapped his [Y/n]), he was killed along with her, since the yandere ex-fiancé couldn't stand that his beloved not only rejected him, but also protected the yandere best friend.

However, the yandere best friend wakes up in his bed in the middle of the night, excited, and although he thinks it's a nightmare, he sees that the date on his watch says "August 10, 2015," which seemed strange to him. The next morning he realized that he had somehow traveled nine years into the past. In that year, he worked at the same company as his beloved, and he was immensely happy to see her again and feel her embrace.

He didn't want to change that reality for ANYTHING in the world.

Therefore, he would use his knowledge of future events to change not only his course and his end, but also to save his beloved, and how could he not? to make her his and in the process protect her from the yandere ex-fiancé before it's too late.

He changes his look; he dedicates himself to exercise and sports; he approaches (Y/n) with more confidence; he cuts off contact with his narcissistic parents completely, while going to therapy for it; he learns self-defense and gun use; he improves incredibly at his job and earns much more money than before, etc. He also dedicates himself not only to protecting his beloved from everything he considers a danger, but he also pursues the yandere ex-fiancé to get revenge on him and give him some karma for his actions towards (Y/n) and him in his original timeline.

-So, what do you think about this plot?

-A/N: Yes, you can use my plot suggestions for your one shots freely. Just give me credit and that's it.